


Mercy Itself and Frees All Faults

by Vampiric_Charms



Series: Burns Most of All [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampiric_Charms/pseuds/Vampiric_Charms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation on Melkor’s wanderings of the world brings about a point of discussion Mairon was never expecting, and leaves him desiring so much more.  </p><p>Set before Mairon’s fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mercy Itself and Frees All Faults

**Author's Note:**

> This, as well, is set before Mairon’s fall/seduction as he works in Aulë's forge, seemingly content. It follows the path set by the previous three stories I’ve posted here along this line, though they are not in a specific order and it is _not_ necessary to read any of the others to read this one.
> 
> I would also like to take the opportunity to open myself to a few requests, if any of you lovely readers have any! You can leave a comment here on AO3 for any of my stories with one, or you are always welcome to send me a message over on FFnet (under this same name, no underscore). Please, do not hesitate to ask! I do love writing for people. 
> 
> And now the story. Enjoy!

“Where do you go?”

The question was almost lost to a heavy drop of his hammer against the anvil, the sound absorbing his words into the deep leaden tone, and Mairon glanced toward the wall where Melkor was leaning so casually in the dim, flickering light of the forge fires and lanterns burning in their sconces. The reddish hue played across his face, making him appear ethereal and almost eternally serene despite the forceful power hiding just beneath the exterior.

“Go?” Melkor repeated, examining a fingernail before looking up to meet Mairon’s eyes. “I’m not sure I understand your meaning, where do I _go_.”

Mairon turned his attention back to the piece he was working on rather than answer right away, bringing the hammer up again to fall to the iron flat surface with a heavy clang. He paused to examine the gentle slope of bronze he was molding, seeing it was nearly the angle he wanted for the front cap of a chest, and moved the hammer up and then down hard against the edge one more time. Perfect.

He stood back, the hammer falling with his arm to rest against the floor, and used his free hand to wipe his brow, moving hair loosed from his braid out of his eyes. “I mean,” he finally replied, “given you are banned from this place, here with us - where do you go? When you are not spending your time pestering me in this forge you claim is too blisteringly hot, that is,” he added with a small glower.

“I am not so banned as they all believe I am. Else, why would I be here at all?” 

Melkor smiled toothily, and Mairon looked away again as the implication held between them. Neither continued that line, and Melkor stepped away from the wall to come closer to the anvil, curious enough to peer down at the bit of bronze metal slowly turning into a small piece elegant enough to be engraved. Mairon did not stop him as he once had, instead taking the moment to allow his arms to rest from their work.

“To answer your question,” Melkor said quietly, tone fitting of the calm atmosphere, “I go many places, freed as I am from the constraints once held upon me. This world is vast and extraordinary; I do enjoy exploring it.”

“Sounds rather exciting, I suppose.” 

Mairon leaned his hammer against the anvil, still within easy reach when he was ready to continue, and lifted his hands to undo the braid altogether, running his fingers through his hair to release any knots. “Do you ever -” He paused, frowning as he cut the words off, and gathered his hair into another twist away from his face out of habit. Melkor looked at him, gaze questioning enough not to let the start of what he was going to say pass unnoticed, and Mairon sighed. “Do you ever miss it? Living here with your kin, the constant companionship?”

“No,” Melkor replied thoughtfully after only a moment. “I do not miss the time I spent with my fellow Valar. We never exactly saw eye-to-eye, even before.” His response was surprisingly honest, and Mairon watched him closely as he spoke. “And now, when I feel the need for company, it seems I have found _you_ for that.”

Mairon’s eyebrows came together with his last statement, the subtle suggestion settling over him until he reached for the hammer again to push away a wave of fluster. “A great deal of good it does you, my company, when you must return here for it. Please, do not get me involved if Master Aulë ever finds you in his forge. I can already imagine the great uproar such an encounter would entail and it does not impress me.”

“Certainly not,” Melkor said, a small laugh flowing with the words. “You will be kept quite in the clear should that ever occur, I assure you.”

Mairon grinned, not surprised this time to see the same pulling at Melkor’s lips. An odd allegiance, they had. Not friendship, necessarily, nor was there the remainder of animosity lingering between them as there had been so long before. Melkor’s visits to the forge were not frequent, though Mairon could not deny he quite appreciated the time spent with someone who appreciated him in turn.

“I find it difficult to imagine,” Mairon continued the previous discussion. He picked up the metal piece cooling on the anvil with his free hand, turning it this way and that in the firelight to search for any imperfections before he began the engraving. “Leaving all of this behind. It seems very daunting, to forge your own path quite different from the one laid for you.”

Melkor chuckled again, his eyes sparkling now in the dim light in a way Mairon had not noticed when he was across the room. “It is not so daunting as it seems. I enjoy it, truly, seeing all there is to see to my heart’s content. Why are you asking all this? Do you wish for your own grand adventure outside the walls containing you here?”

He had not been expecting this turn to the conversation, and he realized then he had not given the idea - leaving this place, exploring as he knew Melkor did every time he vanished from their little meetings - any thought at all in regard to himself. Something odd wrapped itself around his stomach. He set the large hammer aside in exchange for a much smaller one.

“No,” he finally said, voice wistful and nearly breathless. “I do not believe so. Everything I could ever want is here.” He gestured around them, taking in the forge and tools.

“Ah, yes. Your glorious fires.” There was silence for a moment before Melkor murmured, “Though I have the distinct feeling your curiosity stems more from a desire to experience the adventure yourself than to hear of it only through my words.”

“No, I -”

“If you wish to join me, even only for a brief time, as I venture to - to the far mountains, say…” He let the sentence fade off, allowing Mairon absorb the implication before speaking it aloud. “You may see the sights and return here with none of the lords ever the wiser for your departure. Imagine the wonders of the earth waiting in those mountains, needing nothing more than your touch of fire to stir them to life. So many things are yet undiscovered and I am not sure I can uncover them all without a _small_ bit of assistance, at the very least.”

Mairon closed his mouth, which had begun to hang agape at the offer, and looked quickly back at the metal still waiting for his tools to continue work. “I could never do such a thing.”

“Consider it, perhaps, and do tell me if you change your mind. I would not say I get _lonely_ , in my travels alone through the world, though I would not deny companionship for a short while.”

Aulë had already allowed him several times to venture into the close wilds in search of materials that garnered his interest to craft with, and he could not deny his appetite to see more was alive with the notion of travel. And yet - he shook his head and swallowed against the urge to agree without further thought. He had never felt trapped more than he did in that moment, pulled between what he wished to do and what his existence was set to entail.

“I am sorry, but I -”

“Say no more,” Melkor interrupted abruptly, turning away from the anvil with a wave of his hand in mock disappointment. “Just remember you are denying yourself something grand beyond measure - the freedom to explore your own path without restraint. Though if you believe you will find that path here in Aulë’s forges, to the very reaches of forever, stay. I will not drag you away without consent.”

Mairon did not have a response, the twisting in his stomach growing tighter. 

“The offer, however, is genuine. Of everyone here, I believe you would fully appreciate the glory found beyond these halls. And, of course,” Melkor added when Mairon raised his eyes once more, “you will be returned quite safe, to continue your work as you so much enjoy. Consider it,” he said again, very softly.

Mairon set his tools on the anvil, the urge rising and falling swiftly as he stared steadily down at his hands. “I will,” he said, voice just as quiet. “I will consider the offer.”

He laid the bronze piece on the anvil beside the tools, gaze still focused there as the tightness in his stomach moved to grasp at his heart, clenching up into his throat. Melkor came to his side and, likely sensing his discomfort with the continuing idea, changed the subject to one less engulfing. “What will you be working on now?”

Mairon looked up at him, standing so close, and released his breath. “This must cool fully before I can begin engraving,” he said, thankful for the departure from their previous conversation, and he turned his mind again to his work without effort. “There are many other things in line to be made - door hinges and latches for the new hall that is being constructed, and I need to make several buttons.”

“Buttons?” Melkor wrinkled his nose.

Mairon smiled at the distaste in that one word and moved to hang the small hammer back on the wall where it belonged. “Oh, yes. Tiny buttons crafted from brass, for shoes and heavy clothing. I quite enjoy it.”

“No - no _jewelry_ , perhaps, or any other finery?”

He laughed, a lightness coming into his spirit to chase away the discomfort that had been eating away for the last few minutes. “Not at the moment, no,” he said, lips still twitching upward. “I do not have the brass prepared. If you stay, you will have the opportunity to see how this metal is created from copper. It is like alchemy, really, turning one substance to another.”

“Seems a waste of good copper to me,” Melkor muttered, though he made no movement to leave. Mairon could hear the edge of humor under his words, the slight interest, and he walked away to gather the items necessary to begin the process. Melkor was still there when he returned with a filled basket, and the Vala stood back to watch as he began to work. 

Nothing more was said of grand adventures or paths waiting to be discovered, and yet he could feel the pulsing call with every beat of his heart. A call to be resisted, only briefly indulged with a thought before being shoved away. Despite the temptation to follow - this was where he belonged, here, in Aulë’s forge. He was as certain of that as the fire giving him life. He _must_ be certain of that conviction, as, certainly, there was no other option available to him.

He would never leave. Mountains or the words of a fallen Vala, offering so much...he would not leave.

Time slipped away as he worked, answering mostly ridiculous questions about processes and metals and tools. He _let_ the time go, allowed it to seep by as he lost himself with the fire and the sensation of creating something from nothing, desperate to find his ground once more when he was no longer quite sure where he was meant to be.


End file.
